


Recovery

by cORGISS, mottenkoenig, Privategbs



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Poly Relationship, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, characters with disabilities, domestic AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cORGISS/pseuds/cORGISS, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mottenkoenig/pseuds/mottenkoenig, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Privategbs/pseuds/Privategbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys thinks that going to support group is going to be a waste of his time. A nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing, gigantic waste of time.</p><p>At least, he does... until he meets Jack.</p><p>Domestic Polyship AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Boy howdy it's been years since I wrote a multichapter fic. I got too damn excited about this one tho and I wrote like four chapters in the span of a week. I'll be updating once a week. If things work out the way I want them to, it'll be every Saturday but. I can't promise anything. 
> 
> In the same universe as Nothing More, but you don't really have to read it to get this fic.

This was a mistake.

Okay, maybe not a mistake, but he's definitely not comfortable. He fidgets absentmindedly with his tied off sleeve, looking anywhere but at whoever it is that's speaking. He hadn't caught her name. He was too busy panicking.

It's been over a year since the accident, and he's still adjusting to his disabilities. There's only so much he can do for himself with only one arm and half of his vision gone, and as much help as his friends have been, they can't come over every day to cook for him or help him put his damn pants on.

Well, except for Fiona, that is. But she doesn't need to come over to help him with those things, seeing as they already live together.

Honestly, he doesn't even know when they had started dating. After the accident she had started staying with him to help him adjust to his new life and pitch in for medical bills, because oh man, did he have medical bills. One day he woke to find her curled up against his side rather than in her own bed, and instead of being uncomfortable with the realization, he simply smiled and rolled over to press his chest against her back. So he supposes that that was when they had started dating.

She had been the one to suggest this to him--this support group... thing. Well, sort of. Sasha had suggested it to Fiona, who had passed the message on to him. He hadn't really liked the idea, but he decided that it might be nice to be around people that understood his struggles.

Now, though, he can't stop shifting anxiously in his seat, biting his lower lip as he stares at the ground.

“Rhys?”

He jumps at the sound of his name and looks up at the woman directing the meeting. She gives him a warm little smile.

“This is your first time with us. Would you like to tell us a bit about yourself?”

He feels like he's in grade school all over again, being called on by the teacher without the right answer, or even a clue as to what they're supposed to be talking about. He stammers for a moment before he manages to find the right words.

“Um. Yeah. Sure.”

He's not sure if he's supposed to stand up and introduce himself, but he chooses to stay seated instead, fiddling with the hem of his shirt for a few seconds before he speaks again.

“Um. My name is Rhys,” he starts. He doesn't know why he pauses there. Maybe he expects everyone to chime in together with an automatic response of ‘Hi, Rhys.’ He clears his throat.

“I was in an accident a little more than a year ago with my best friend,” he says, avoiding eye contact with the other members of the group, “I, uh, lost my arm, obviously, and my eye.” He taps at his glass blue eye, shifting uncomfortably.

“I'm… I'm still adjusting, and my girlfriend and I are still paying off the medical bills.”

He looks up to find sympathetic glances rather than the judgemental stares he had expected and he feels a little bit less like a cornered animal. He goes on to explain how he'd had to take a long leave from work and how Fiona had been the sole income of the house for god knows how long, and he gets a few solemn nods and a couple of supportive pats on the shoulder, and even though this treatment isn't much different from what he gets from his friends, it's somehow more comforting, knowing that most others in the room have gone through similar traumatic events. His friends may claim to understand his frustration, but he knows they can't understand. Not really.

The only person who remains straight faced and silent throughout his explanation sits directly across the circle from him. Of all the various injuries in the room, his is by far the most startling. A deep scar marrs his otherwise attractive features, missing his right eye by a hair and curving back down to go directly through his left, which is a shocking milky white. Rhys doubts he can see out of that eye. He tries not to stare, but the other locks eyes with him very briefly and he looks away, feeling as though he'd intruded upon something very personal in that fraction of a second.

He finishes his story and settles into his chair, listening to the words of advice and encouragement that he receives from the rest of the group. He smiles and nods at each of their comments, all the while trying to keep his eyes-- _eye_ \--off of the man across from him. Something about him makes Rhys nervous--and surprisingly, it's not the scar. Maybe it's something about the way he's staring, or how he absolutely radiates power. Whatever it is, it makes him uneasy. He breathes a sigh of relief when, at the end of the session, he stops staring at him to grabs his things and book it for the door.

He’s in the middle of gathering his own things when a voice next to him makes him jump.

“How was your first day?” questions the woman who had orchestrated the meeting. Dr. Daye is her name, he recalls.

“Kind of nerve-wracking,” he says with a little laugh, and she gives him a smile.

“It always is, at first. But I'm sure you'll find your place among the others in the weeks to come.”

He nods and turns back to putting his things away, presuming the conversation to be over--except for a nagging thought at the back of his mind.

“Um, Dr. Daye?” He questions, “Who was that guy? The one with the big scar on his face. If, uh, you don't mind my asking.”

“That's Jack,” she says, sounding almost a bit… sad?

“He was staring at me during my turn. What's his deal?”

“He's only been coming for a few weeks,” she says, “He listens to everyone else’s stories pretty attentively, but whenever he gets the opportunity to talk about himself, he passes his turn on to the next person. He always shows up last and leaves first, too, so nobody has the chance to talk to him.”

Rhys hums thoughtfully, stroking his lips with the pad of his thumb. “Maybe he just needs time to open up?” He suggests.

“I certainly hope so,” she responds with a sigh.

“I should get going,” Rhys responds after a moment of silence, “My girlfriend will want to know how it went.”

She perks back up at that. “I hope we’ll see you again next week,” she says before turning on her heel to talk to other members of the group, her ponytail bouncing behind her.

As he packs his things and heads for the subway, he thinks about the man Dr. Daye had identified as Jack. That scar couldn't have been an accident, what with the shape of it and all. He wonders what exactly had happened to him, and despite his previous discomfort under the gaze of the older man, he decides to make it his duty to help Jack understand that he doesn't have to be alone in his suffering. Living with a disabling deformity is hard, and he knows this from experience--but he can't imagine how much harder it would have been if his friends hadn't been there to support him.

He sits down on the subway as it lurches forward, and he makes a promise to himself that by this time next week, Jack won't have to feel alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys discusses support group with his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written any new chapters bc I got sidetracked by Dragon Age but I still have two extra chapters saved up \o/

He opens the door to his apartment and is ushered inside by his dog, who waits patiently inside with Rhys’ slippers in his mouth. Rhys smiles down at the Doberman.

“Good boy, Atlas,” he says, taking the slippers from him.

“I still can't fucking believe you named that dog Atlas,” says a familiar voice from the couch.

“ _I_ didn't name him,” Rhys says defensively, “His name was Atlas when he was being trained.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come here,” she says, peeking her head over the top of the couch to motion him over with a finger.

He does as he's told and leans over the back of the couch to place a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Hey, baby.”

“How was the thing?” She questions, adjusting so that she can look up at him more easily.

“It was nice. I saw a few people with service dogs. Maybe next time I'll bring Atlas,” he muses.

She smiles at that. “So you think you'll go again?”

“Yeah, everyone was pretty nice.” He pauses for a second, furrowing his brows. “Well, almost everyone.”

Fiona’s expression turns dark in the blink of an eye. “Did someone make fun of you? I swear to god, Rhys, just give me their name and I’ll--”

“No, no, it wasn't that,” he interrupts her, shaking his head. “He wasn't mean to me, he just… Didn't say anything. At all. To anyone. Dr. Daye said his name is Jack.”

“Okay, what about him?” She responds, raising an eyebrow.

“I dunno,” he starts, moving around the couch to flop down next to Fiona, “He just seemed… Sad, I guess. I mean, everyone there was, but the doctor told me that he's never said anything at the meetings. I dunno. I guess I just feel bad for him.”

“Maybe he just enjoys his privacy,” she suggests with a shrug.

“I think he doesn't really know how to talk about it,” Rhys responds. “Whatever it is, I think I’m gonna try to talk to him next time.”

“Alright. Just don't be too pushy, okay?”

“I don't know the meaning of the word,” he says with a proud grin. Fiona snorts and playfully punches his shoulder.

“We still on for movie night with the others?” She asks.

“Yeah. Who’s house this time?”

“Vaughn’s. So, y’know, no alcohol.”

“Fine by me.”

\--

Every time. This happens every time they have movie night. Sometimes, they argue for so long that they run out of time for an actual movie.

“We should watch Bridesmaids,” Vaughn suggests.

“Fuck no, I ain't watching that chick flick bullshit,” August shoots back.

“It's not a chick flick!” Vaughn retorts.

“Yeah, it's a comedy!” Rhys adds.

“It's totally a chick flick,” Sasha confirms, and Fiona nods solemnly next to her.

“Okay, how about Warm Bodies?” Rhys tries.

“That's hardly better,” August responds with a roll of his eyes.

“We should watch The Purge,” Sasha says excitedly.

“Or Scream,” Fiona says, “Can't beat the classics.”

“Zombieland?” Rhys offers desperately.

“Zombieland is the only movie we can ever agree on,” August throws his hands in the air. “We've watched it the past 3 movie nights! We have to pick something else!”

An hour later, they're all crammed onto Vaughn’s couch, quoting the entire script of Zombieland. They'd seen it so many times, they had it memorized.

“Oh, Rhys,” Sasha says, pausing in her quoting to turn her attention to the young man, “How did support group go?”

This catches Vaughn’s attention, as well. He glances hopefully at Rhys, his expression one of concern, and Rhys yearns to reach out and touch his shoulder.

Vaughn had walked away from their accident nearly unscathed, but somehow, Rhys thinks that his friend had been even more traumatized than he. After all, Rhys hadn't had to stand there and watch while the EMTs pulled his best friend, screaming and bleeding, out of the wreckage that he had caused. Vaughn had.

“It went well,” he says with a smile, “I was pretty anxious at first, but everyone made sure I felt welcome.”

“Except for Jack,” Fiona adds pointedly.

“Who’s Jack?” Vaughn questions, leaning down to pick up Snowball, his cat, and set her on his lap. She purrs loudly, and Vaughn smiles.

“Some guy Rhys has a hard on for that he met at support group,” Fiona explains. Betrayed by his own girlfriend.

“I do _not_ have a hard on for him,” he states, shooting his girlfriend a glare as she snickers to herself, “I just feel bad for him. Nobody deserves to be alone through something like this.” He motions to his arm. “His injury looked pretty recent, too.”

“What kind of injury did he have, anyways? Can't have been worse than a missing arm,” August questions.

“He had a scar on his face,” Rhys says, “And not just, like, a little knick on his cheek, either. It was like... it completely covered his face. One part of it went through his eye. I think he's half blind.”

“Aww, twinsies!” Sasha exclaims, which gets a small chuckle all around.

“My point is, it couldn't have been an accident,” he says, “It was too weird of a shape. This?” He motions to his arm, or lack thereof, “This sucks. But at least I know it wasn't on purpose.” He catches Vaughn glance to the floor out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly adds, “And at least I had you guys there to help me through it. I don't know. I don't think he has anyone to help him through this.”

“And there's that hard on I told you guys about,” Fiona says, causing another round of laughter.

Rhys only rolls his eyes, responding in unison with the movie. “Where's the fucking twinkies?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is not as enigmatic as people seem to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit clunky so I had mottenkoenig go over it and rewrite some of it but it's still not fantastic. Oh well. Have at it.

His second support group meeting is uneventful, for the most part. He has no new information on his own progress so he simply comments on others’ stories, happy to participate despite his lack of inspiring stories on his triumph over disability. He thinks it'll be some time before he has any of his own.

He pays a little bit more attention to Jack this time around, casting casual glances his way every now and then. He frowns to himself when Dr. Daye asks him if he wishes to share with the group, but all he gives her in response is a mute shake of his head, brows furrowed and lips shut tight. She gives him a sympathetic little smile before she moves onto the next person in the circle.

Rhys pats his dog on the head as he sits attentively at his side, ready to assist with whatever task he may be needed for. He doesn’t necessarily need Atlas with him at the moment, although his anxiety is soothed as he drags his fingers over the dog’s smooth fur.

Dr. Daye dismisses their group after an hour or so of discussion and he all but jumps out of his chair, his belongings already packed and Atlas at his side. Jack is already quickly retreating towards the door, but Rhys catches up to him before he can slip out.

“Jack!”

The man stops dead in his tracks before turning slowly to face the other, his expression somewhere between mildly startled and downright murderous. Rhys gulps.

“Uh… It is Jack, right? Your name?”

Jack looks at him, _really_ looks at him for the first time, almost like he's wondering how hard it would be to just knock him on his ass and make a run for it. His good eye drags over every part of him, gaze lingering on his tied off sleeve before going back up to meet Rhys’ mismatched eyes.

It takes a long moment of silence and uncomfortable eye contact before he finally speaks.

“Don't wear it out, cupcake,” he says, and oh _Jesus_ , does that voice make him melt. Atlas presses up just a little bit closer to Rhys, feeling his owner’s legs wobble.

“Um. Sure,” he starts, running his hand through his hair nervously. “Well, I'm Rhys.”

“I've gathered,” Jack responds, already sounding bored with the conversation.

“It's just — I dunno, I've only been to two meetings so far, but you haven't said a single word at either,” he explains, waving his hand about as he speaks, “I guess I just want you to know that you don't have to be alone.”

The other man snorts at that and turns to leave. “Right. Well, buddy, I got news for ya — I'm just _peachy_. So, ya know, thanks for the concern or whatever, but it's not necessary.”

“Are you, though?” he asks, and Jack pauses again, raising a brow at him. He fidgets under his gaze, looking away.

“Look, all I'm saying is that… y'know, you don't have to be alone, or whatever. You don't have to talk about your problems with a whole group, and hey, if you don't want to talk about them at all, that's fine, too.” he scratches behind Atlas’ ear who, in response, wags his tail a little bit, “Just… If you ever need to talk about something or you just want a new friend, you can talk to me any time, okay? Here.”

Rhys pulls out his wallet and grabs an old receipt and a pen, writing down his name and cell phone number before handing the paper to Jack. He accepts it with caution in his eyes, as if he expects the little slip of paper to explode the moment he does.

“Thanks, I _guess_.”

Rhys smiles at that, proud of the progress he's made, small as it is. “Anytime.”

\--

He lays sprawled out on the couch with Atlas lying on top of him when Fiona comes home. He mutes the TV and listens as footsteps approach.

“Hey,” he says when she peeks her head over the back of the couch to give him a little smile.

“Hey,” she responds, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “How'd your meeting go? Did you get laid yet?”

Rhys rolls his eyes. “Haha, very funny. No, I didn't get laid. That's your job, remember?”

She punches his shoulder and he laughs, shifting his legs so that she can sit at the other end of the couch. She plops down and strokes Atlas’ paw, speaking after a moment of silence.

“Movie night?” she questions.

“Yeah. Sasha and August’s place?”

“Yup,” she pops the p.

“So lots of alcohol.”

“Mhm.”

“Peachy.”

\--

They manage to agree on something other than Zombieland for once, and this time, the debate only takes a few minutes. Vaughn has done his research, and brought a list of movies that he thought they might be able to agree on.

Kick-Ass isn't his favorite film, but he’s content with it for the moment. He’ll look forward to when he can get a movie day with just Vaughn, when they can watch all the rom-coms they want.

They don't talk much this time around, too focused on the un-memorized lines to make much small talk. Rhys and Vaughn are the only ones who refuse when drinks are passed around, and at the end of the night Rhys insists on driving home. Fiona doesn't argue; she knows his history with buzzed driving.

As soon as they arrive at their home, she is out before she even has the chance to take her shoes off, occupying most of the bed in the process of passing out. Rhys sighs, incapable of shifting her weight alone, and accepts his fate of sleeping on the couch tonight.

He changes into his pajamas and settles into his makeshift bed when his phone vibrates. The notification on the screen reveals that the text message is from an unknown number.

[sent from: Unknown - hey]  
[sent from: Unknown - its rhys right]

He stares at the messages for a moment, tapping out a response.

[sent to: Unknown - Yeah. Who is this?]

[sent from: Unknown - jack]  
[sent from: Unknown - from support group]

A smile spreads across his features at that, and he takes a moment to respond.

[sent to: Unknown - Hi, Jack (:]  
[sent to: Unknown - Glad to hear from you]

[sent from: Unknown - yeah yeah, don't be so eager buddy, I just wanted to let you know that your fly was undone the entire meeting]

[sent to: Unknown - Gee, thanks for the heads up 5 hours later :U]

[sent from: Unknown - no problem, man]

Rhys rolls his eyes despite the grin still plastered on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack isn't quite as ready to make friends as he had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm sorry if there's any typos, my proofreader has been busy this week and didn't get the chance to check this chapter before it was supposed to go up.

[text from: Jack - haha dude how tf do you have a girlfriend w/ hair like that]

Rhys huffs at his phone. Clearly, Jack had opened his snapchat.

[text from: Jack - i mean i guess it depends on whether your girlfriend is hot or if she's just pretty to you b/c ur dating her]

Rhys takes personal offense to that.

[text to: Jack - I'll have you know that my girlfriend is gorgeous.]

[text from: Jack - i don't believe you]  
[text from: Jack - prove it]

[text to: Jack - Fine.]

“Hey Fi?” he calls from the couch.

“Yeah?” she responds, approaching him with a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Take a selfie with me,” he says, waving his phone around. Fiona snorts.

“I swear to god, Rhys, you take more selfies than a high school girl.”

“Is that a yes, or…?”

“Fine,” she says with a smile, setting their mugs down on the coffee table. She lay her head on Rhys’ shoulder and offers the camera a smile, while Rhys grins stupidly from ear to ear. Fiona can't help but to laugh as the picture is taken.

“Oh, God, delete it,” she says, covering her face, “I look so stupid when I laugh.”

“No way! You're adorable when you laugh,” he says, smiling at the picture.

“Ugh, you're so nice. Stop that.”

“I will if you stop being beautiful.”

“Not possible. I'm too hot,” she says.

“Hot damn,” Rhys responds automatically, turning back to his phone. He sends the snapchat to Jack as well as the rest of his and Fiona’s group of friends, then opens up his messages.

[text to: Jack - Check your snapchat.]

[text from: Jack - alright buddy, but be prepared for the realization that she isn't actually that hot]

There's a brief pause between messages before a rapid fire of alerts.

[text from: Jack - HOLY FUCJING SHIT]  
[text from: Jack - WTF]  
[text from: Jack - HOW]  
[text from: Jack - ok no there has to be a logical explanation. r u rich? is she dying? did your parents put you guys up to this]

[text to: Jack - I think love is a logical enough explanation <3]

[text from: Jack - ugh you're so fuckin gross dude knock that sappy shit off]

[text to: Jack - Hey man you wanted to talk about my girlfriend. I'm not gonna spare you all the mushy crap that I talk about with my other friends.]

[text from: Jack - ok change of subject then. im not gonna be at support group tmrw so don't have a fuckin heart attack when i don't show up]

[text to: Jack - How come?]

[text from: Jack - work stuff. it's not important]

[text to: Jack - Aw, alright. I was gonna invite you to movie night with my friends but I guess I can just tell you here. Idk if you like zombieland but that's probably what we’re gonna watch because we can never agree on anything else.]

He doesn't get a response back immediately, so he turns his attention back to Fiona.

“Let's go out for dinner tonight,” he says, leaning up against her shoulder. She raises an eyebrow at him and passes him a mug of coffee.

“It's Thursday,” she responds matter of factly.

“Well, we're gonna be at movie night tomorrow and I go back to work on Monday finally, so I have the extra money that I saved.”

She shrugs and takes a sip from her mug. “Can't argue with that logic. Sure.”

He smiles and places a kiss on her cheek. “I'll let you decide where to go.”

His phone buzzes and he looks back down to it.

[text from: Jack - can't promise anything, but give me the address and maybe i’ll be there]

[text to: Jack - Great! Hope to see you there :)]

[text from: Jack - yeah yeah, get off my dick already]

\--

When Vaughn arrives at their apartment for movie night the next day, he's immediately met with a piece of popcorn to the glasses.

“Hey, Vaughn!” Rhys shouts, darting past him and into the hallway, cackling the whole way.

“Get back here you piece of shit!” Fiona calls, chasing after Rhys. Pieces of popcorn are stuck to her hair and clothes, and Vaughn raises an eyebrow at the sight.

“What the hell happened here?”

Rhys’ only response is a squeal and panicked laughter from down the hall. Vaughn shakes his head.

“Got it.”

They return to the entryway shortly, Fiona dragging Rhys by his empty sleeve. He laughs, picking a piece of popcorn off of her shoulder to pop into his mouth.

“Have August and Sasha left yet?” Vaughn questions, sliding past them to examine the state of the kitchen.

“Yeah, they should be here in a few minutes,” Rhys responds, worming out of Fiona’s grip to follow his friend to the other room.

Vaughn shakes his head at the popcorn littered about the tile floor and Rhys snickers.

“Atlas!” He calls, and the dog comes bounding into the room. Rhys motions vaguely to the floor and Atlas gets to work on inhaling the popcorn. Rhys and Vaughn both look up as a knock sounds at the door.

“Is that August and Sasha?” Vaughn asks.

“They never knock,” Rhys responds as he makes his way over to the door with a puzzled expression. He opens it up and is shocked by what he finds.

Jack stands before him, wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the sun having set hours ago.

“Heyyy, cupcake,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Jack! Hi!” He says, still a little bit in shock, “I didn't think you'd come! Or, ah, I at least thought you would like… Text me ahead of time. Or something.”

“Eh, well, I was busy. Didn't really make the decision to come until, oh… Three minutes ago?” He shrugs, pulling off his sunglasses to give Rhys a confident grin. The expression falters as he looks around, however, his eyes catching on something behind him.

“Uh… Jack?” he questions.

“Ah… Erm… Sorry, kiddo,” he says to Rhys, though he's still looking past him, “I just remembered that I have… prior obligations,” he mumbles, tearing his eyes away from whatever it is that's got him so spooked to look at Rhys. “People to do and things to see and all that jazz. Ya know how it is,” he says. He puts his glasses back on and turns on his heel, waving quickly before ducking out of the doorway.

“Jack, wait!” Rhys calls, but he only trudges on forward.

“Holy shit, dude,” he hears from behind him, and he spins around to see Vaughn staring at the spot where Jack had been with wide eyes.

“I know, right?” Rhys starts, scratching at the back of his head, “I mean, he's usually kind of standoffish, but that was--”

“No, Rhys, oh my god,” he responds, shaking himself out of his stupor, “that's _Jack_.”

“Uhh… Yeah? I already told you his name.”

“No, no! That's my boss! That's, like, ‘CEO of Hyperion’ Jack!”

Rhys can only stare in shock for a moment before he responds. “He's your _boss_?!”

“Yes! Why didn't you tell me he was my boss?!” Vaughn shouts.

“How was I supposed to know that?! I described him and his scar! How could you not have known by that description?!” Rhys retorts.

“The last time I saw him, he didn't _have_ a scar! He's been out of work!” He puts his head in his hands. “Now I know why.”

“What's with all of the screaming?” Fiona questions, returning to the front room in a set of new, non-buttered clothes.

“Uh, well, you know the guy that I met at support group?” Rhys starts.

“Yeah?”

“He's Vaughn’s boss.”

Fiona stares at him with wide eyes for a moment.

“Holy shit,” she finally responds.

Vaughn gestures desperately towards Fiona. “That's what I said!”

“Yeah--and I guess he didn't want his employees to know about the scar, because the last time Vaughn saw him was two months ago. I assume that's probably when it happened,” Rhys scratches his jaw. “You aren't going to tell anyone, right, Vaughn?” he asks.

“No! Hell no! Absolutely not!” He responds, shaking his head and waving his arms in front of him, “He'd have my head if I told anyone!”

“Okay, good.” Rhys pulls his phone out of his pocket to type out a text to Jack.

[text to: Jack - Hey, man, I'm sorry, I had no idea that Vaughn worked for you. I would have warned you or something if I'd known.  
[text to: Jack - Don't worry though, he's not gonna tell anyone. He's a good guy.]

He sets his phone down on the kitchen table when he hears the front door open and goes to greet August and Sasha with a smile. After pleasantries have been exchanged among everyone they move on to their weekly movie argument.

Inevitably, they wind up watching Zombieland.

Halfway through the movie, Rhys moves to the kitchen to make a new bag of popcorn. He checks his phone while the bag spins slowly in the microwave. He frowns at the screen.

No new messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o yea also Rhys doesn't work for Hyperion, he works for atlas. I don't really know what they manufacture. Toilet paper, maybe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't all that great but I promise the next one will be much better!

Rhys checks his phone for what seems like the twentieth time so far today. No new messages.

He sighs. 

“Still waiting for a text back?” Vaughn questions from across the table. He nods, still staring at the screen in dismay.

“I mean, I get that he was spooked by seeing his employee there,” Rhys responds, motioning to his best friend, “But still, it's just--I dunno, it's weird. I thought he'd talk to me about it. At least send me a message letting me know he needs some time, or something.”

Vaughn shrugs, thanking the waitress as she places their drinks down in front of them, “That's just how he is, man. He's always been kinda distant.”

“Speaking of which,” he says, taking a sip of his Fanta, “What is he like? At work, I mean.”

“Uh, fucking terrifying?” Vaughn offers, shuddering visibly.

“Oh, come on, he can't be that bad.”

“Bro.”

“Give me an example.”

“He fired his last P.A. because he forgot to have them take the foam off of his soy latte.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Vaughn guides his straw into his mouth.

There's a couple seconds of silence before Rhys speaks again.

“Do you think he'll be mad at me when I see him at support group?” he questions. Vaughn shakes his head.

“I don't think he’ll be mad at you. I think he'll be kinda distant. He might try to avoid you. I also think that he's going to increase the hell out of my hours,” he says with a sigh.

“I'm sorry, man. I would have warned you if I knew.”

“If I go missing, will you adopt my cats?” Vaughn requests. Rhys puts his hand over his heart.

“Bro. I'd be honored to adopt your cats,” he says with sincerity.

“I mean, obviously, you have to talk to Fiona--”

“Of course.”

“-- and you have to make sure Snowball stays out of trouble --” Vaughn reminds him.

“Duh,” Rhys answers automatically.

“-- but I think you would be a good surrogate cat dad.”

“I'm flattered, man. You wouldn't trust just anyone with this job.”

“That's right, I wouldn't, so you'd better take it seriously.”

“You got it,” Rhys salutes in response as the waitress places their plates in front of them. They spend the remainder of their lunch discussing the rules of Rhys’ theoretical future adoption over their meal.

\--

“How was your date with Vaughn?” Fiona asks as he enters the front door of their apartment. Rhys raises an eyebrow.

“Why do you insist that I'm gay for every single guy I ever spend time with?” He responds, closing the door behind him.

“Dude. You and Vaughn are absolutely married.”

Rhys considers this for a moment before he responds. “Fair enough.”

“Exactly.”

“Speaking of which, if Vaughn dies before his cats, he wants us to adopt them.”

“You have to buy the food and clean up after them,” is her only response.

“Thanks, darling,” he says, sitting down on the couch next to her.

“Mhm,” she hums. “Excited to go back to work tomorrow?”

“Actually, yeah,” he answers, “I'm tired of sitting around doing nothing. I mean, lunch with Vaughn on weekends is nice -- and so is movie night and support group, but still. Most of my time is spent on Netflix. I'm ready for some coding.”

“Ugh, you're such a fucking nerd,” she turns her head to smile at him.

“Yeah, but I'm your nerd.” He smiles back. She pushes his head away with an open palm, snorting in response.

“Why are you like this?”

“You know you love me.”

“Yeah. I do.”

\--

He wakes earlier than he's used to the next morning and starts getting ready, although he has to wake Fiona when it comes to buttoning his shirt and tying his tie.

“Sorry,” he mumbles under his breath as she works her way up his shirt.

“Why are you sorry?” She questions, “I told you that you could always wake me up if you needed help getting ready,” she says. “What do you want to do with the sleeve?” She waves his empty sleeve around, and he looks to the ground.

“I don't know. Is there any way to like… Roll it up to the shoulder? Or something? God, I don't know. What will look the most professional?”

Fiona takes his cheek gently in her hand, guiding his head up to make eye contact with her.

“There’s nothing unprofessional about a missing arm, babe.”

“I know, I know, but… I don't want people to stare.”

“The people at Atlas aren't bad people, Rhys. They won't say anything to you about it.”

“Vasquez will,” he points out.

“Vasquez is an ass,” she reminds him, “That's why everyone calls him Assquez. Nobody will pay any attention to what he says, okay?” She smiles at him, places a kiss on his cheek, and goes back to tying his tie. “You'll be okay.”

Rhys smiles, albeit hesitantly. “I remain unconvinced,” he says, “But I feel a bit better, after hearing you say Assquez.” 

Fiona snorts, tightening his tie just a little bit more than necessary, before guiding his head down so that she can give him a quick kiss.

“It'll be fine. I'll see you tonight.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys manages to get a hold of Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright Jack's finally warming up to Rhys! I'm quite proud of this chapter, if only because of Rhys and Jack being nerds. So here it is.

[text to: Jack - I know you're pissed off at me or being standoffish or...something? But some confirmation that you're still alive would be nice.]  
[text to: Jack - Just a thought.]

Rhys stares at his phone for a few seconds after sending the messages before tucking it under his leg, returning his attention to the situation at hand. A woman several seats to the right is talking about the various surgeries she's gone through in the past year, but it's difficult to pay attention when you're anxiously waiting for a text that will probably never come.

Eventually, it's his turn to speak, and he recounts his first day back at work in a year. He explains how accommodating everyone had been -- with the exception of Assquez, of course. However, even Rhys’ nemesis seemed apologetic, at least after Yvette had slapped him so hard his toupé had flown halfway across the room.

The support group is evenly divided by laughter and irritated silence at that; Rhys idly wonders how many people in the circle have toupés.

Thankfully, the tension recedes as the next person talks before the meeting inevitably draws to a close. Rhys is quick to collect his things before checking his phone.

No new messages.

\--

He comes home to find an empty apartment and a note on the counter.

  
_Got called into work. I'll be home late. Dinner’s in the microwave. No movie night tonight, unless you wanna hang out with August and Vaughn._   
_-Fiona_

He knows that “called into work” really means “went out with Sasha and Felix to con some poor drunk out of his fancy new Rolex,” but he can't bring himself to mind. Whatever pays the bills -- and oh, do they have bills. It's a wonder that they've got any money for food, considering how much they're still paying for Rhys’ time in the hospital.

He grabs the Chinese take-out from the microwave, settles down on the couch and checks his phone again. Still nothing.

He huffs, staring at the screen once again. While he's almost entirely positive that Jack is just being distant, he can't help that sharp, little spike of anxiety in his chest.

What if something had happened to him? He had seemed quite uncomfortable with Vaughn’s presence at movie night, but it couldn't have been so upsetting that he'd hurt himself, right? The thought alone makes Rhys chew his lip, and pushes him to do something he should have done a week ago.

He pulls up Jack’s contact info and hits dial.

To his surprise, it only rings once before a familiar, but very annoyed voice answers.

“Oh my god, Arthur, _stop calling me_.”

“Um--” Rhys starts, but the other cuts him off.

“I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times; I want a dirty vanilla soy latte with no foam at one hundred and eighty degrees _exactly_ , and if you don't get it to me before it drops to one seventy-five, _you're fired_. Do you understand?”

There's a brief moment of silence on the line, with one party expecting a response and the other unsure of how to answer.

“It's a simply yes or no question, cupcake,” Jack sighs, although his tone is no less threatening, “Are we clear or should I just fire you right now and save us both the disappointment of your failure?”

“Well, I mean, I'm not Arthur,” Rhys finally manages, “but I guess I could still bring you a drink…?”

For a second, he fears that Hyperion’s C.E.O. has hung up on him when his response is met with silence, but realizes that he must be checking the caller I.D.

“Oh. Rhys.”

“Too busy to look at who called?” Rhys asks.

“Yeah,” Jack answers. He sounds tired now that the irritation is gone from his voice.

“And, let me guess--Arthur is your incompetent P.A.?”

“ _That_ is the understatement of the century.”

“I was serious though.” Rhys starts, “I'll go get you that latte, but you have to give Arthur another chance. At least for tonight, don't fire him over coffee.”

There's a pause while Jack considers his offer.

“Sure. Yeah, alright. Tell you what, I'll even give him the rest of the night off! -- but I'm holding you to the same standards, buddy. If you can't bring my coffee to me in, say... twenty minutes, with my exact specifications, you're fired as my acquaintance. Sound good to you?”

“Big stakes,” he answers, “but without anything in it for me. I say if I can do it, you promote me to friend.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Rhysie,” Jack says, and he swears he can hear the smile on the other man’s face, “but I'm feeling unusually generous. Why the hell not? If you succeed, I'll promote you. Clock’s ticking, kiddo! I'd get my ass in gear if I were you. I'll text you the address.”

Rhys smiles as he grabs his coat, “See you in 20 minutes.”

\--

As Atlas’ head programmer, he makes a good amount of money, but he doesn't think he could ever afford to stay at a place like this for more than a weekend. The hotel is daunting, inside and out; yet somehow, it's not surprising to him at all to find that Jack is staying here. In the executive suite, no less -- how loaded can he possibly be?

Rhys is standing in front of the door in a shorter amount of time than he expected, and he takes in a deep breath before he knocks.

There's audible shuffling from inside before Jack pulls it open, and Rhys is a little bit jarred at the sight before him, frankly. He's already become accustomed to seeing the older man in a suit jacket and shoes worth more than his dog, but all he wears now is a yellow shirt with the Hyperion logo and a pair of grey sweatpants. Somehow, though, his hair remains perfectly styled.

It makes him feel a little overdressed, honestly.

“Five whole minutes to spare!” Jack holds the door open for Rhys with a grin, “I must admit, I'm a little impressed...but does the coffee live up to the expectations! The suspense must be killing you; it's _definitely_ killing me.”

“I'm not that worried,” Rhys responds, passing off the cup to Jack as he enters the hotel room, “I did my fair share of coffee peddling to get where I am. I have it down to a science.”

The C.E.O. snorts at his brag, but he looks pleasantly surprised when he looks up after taking a sip. He hums to himself.

“I'm disappointed. I _really_ wanted to fire someone tonight,” he says, passing Rhys to sit down at the desk. Documents are scattered everywhere, and it's difficult for the programmer to tell which form he's working on or even what color the surface of the desk is.

The younger man glances around for a place to sit, before settling down in the chair closest to the desk. It's not as close as he would like, but its position leaves him facing Jack rather than away from him.

“So, about that promotion…”

“Right. Promotion.” Jack sets the coffee down carefully amongst the sea of paper before him, “Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from ‘acquaintance’ to ‘hesitant friend’; don't abuse your new position.”

“Now that I'm a friend, am I allowed to ask questions?”

“Depends on the questions.” The C.E.O. frowns.

“The scar?”

“Mugged. Next question.” Rhys knows that there is far more to it than that, but it's clear that Jack doesn't want to talk about it. He’ll leave that topic alone.

“Why are you in a hotel and not at home?” He tries instead, but the other’s already obvious discomfort increases before he speaks.

“Sorry, but you're currently only a hesitant friend. You have to be at least my BFF to ask that question, kiddo.”

“Alright,” Rhys pauses, thinking a moment. “One last question, then.”

“Shoot.”

“Why didn't you text me? I was worried about you, you know.”

At that Jack chuckles, but it’s humorless.

“Partially because I've been busy catching up on work,” he motions at the scattered paperwork, “Mostly because I didn't want to talk about it.”

“You could have just said that. No one is going to force you to talk about why you ran off. Everyone has things they don't want to share.”

  
The C.E.O. is silent for a moment while he assesses the other’s comment, but he cracks a little smile as he speaks.

“You're not half bad, Rhysie, y’know that? Maybe -- just maybe -- I might really take you up on the offer of movie night next time. Zombieland’s a pretty good movie, after all.”

Rhys smiles too. “We’ll be sure to make extra hot chocolate in case you do decide to come.”

“Sounds like a plan.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Jack talk about shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow im so bad at writing chapter descriptions

“Hyperion, huh?” Rhys asks with an amused grin, lounging casually on the couch in Jack’s hotel suite.

  
“What's so funny about Hyperion?” the other responds, a smile on his lips, “What do you do, huh? Something tells me you have no right to turn up your nose at _my_ company, kiddo.”

  
“I have to have a few secrets of my own, y’know. I barely know anything about you, but -- _somehow_ \-- you know everything about me.”

  
“It's not my fault you can't shut your damn mouth for more than five seconds. I didn't torture that information outta you, buddy.” Jack notes, “You told me on all your own. Every excruciatingly boring detail.”

  
“Okay, maybe my life isn’t as exciting as staying in the executive suite of a five star hotel, but it’s not _that_ boring. A little domestic, admittedly, but not boring.”

  
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, cupcake.”

  
Rhys snorts at that.

  
“Alright, Mister Exciting. Name something crazy you’ve done in the past week.”

  
He thinks on that for a moment, before snapping and quickly pointing a finger gun at the younger man.

  
“Fired my head accountant. Boom. Crazy.”

  
“Oh, God,” Rhys’ eyes widen in realization, “Isn’t Vaughn your --”

  
“Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya. He has more hours this week, that’s all.” Jack chuckles as he reaches for his coffee.

  
Vaughn had absolutely called that one. Rhys makes a mental note to ask his friend how he can apparently read Jack’s mind like that.

  
“Thank god,” he sighs in relief, but he notices the C.E.O.’s frown when he takes a sip from his cup.

  
“Is something wrong?”

  
“My coffee’s cold.” Jack states matter-of-factly, setting the paper cup aside. “Not even like, lukewarm. What a waste of a good drink.”

  
Rhys pauses. Had they really been talking that long? He reaches for his phone to check the time, but Jack leans forward with a serious expression that makes him hesitate.

  
“I’ve got a question for you, Rhysie,” he says, good eye examining him -- for what, Rhys isn’t entirely sure, “If you’ll indulge me.”

  
“Ask away,” the younger responds, a lump forming in his throat, “I guess.”

  
“Vaughn. He’s your best friend or whatever, right?”

  
“Known him since he was born, pretty much. Our parents were friends before they had us,” Rhys confirms.

  
“Yeah, right, right, sure.” Jack interrupts his explanation, waving it off in disinterest, “So your best friend, well… It’s not hard to tell that he doesn’t like me. Hell, pretty much everyone that works with me hates me, and that’s just common knowledge. So that leaves me wondering, you know?”

  
The programmer’s brow furrows. Where is he going with this?

  
“Why would you, Mr. My-Life-is-Perfect-and-I-Have-All-the-Friends-I-Could-Ask-For, hang out with me even though it puts one of those precious friendships of yours at risk? What’s your motive in all of this?”

  
Motive? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  
“Well,” Rhys starts, trying to find the right words, “I’m not really ‘risking’ anything, to be honest. I’m pretty sure I could befriend _Hitler_ and Vaughn would still be friends with me. Not that I would, mind you, I’m just using him as an example. Second of all, my life isn’t perfect. Sure, I have good friends and a nice apartment but I’m up to my ears in medical debt. Not to mention the fact that now I only have one arm and one eye.”

  
He motions to where his right arm should be, replaced instead by a knotted up sleeve.

  
“As for my ‘motive’? I guess I just feel… Comfortable around you? -- and I don’t want to be too presumptuous, but if your coffee getting cold because we’ve been talking so long is any sign, I think you probably feel comfortable around me, too.”

  
Jack glances back to the mentioned drink, but Rhys doesn’t miss the way his expression softens a little bit.

  
“I don't see any reason why we can't be friends. Sure, Vaughn’s a little uncomfortable with the concept at the moment, but he’ll learn to live with it.”

  
Silence settles over the room as Jack considers how to respond to him, but he’s interrupted when he opens his mouth to speak.

  
_~Well, I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more!~_

  
“I should. Get that.” Rhys says with a sheepish grin, reaching for his phone.

  
“Let me guess.” The C.E.O. reclines into his chair again, his amused smirk resurfacing, “That’s your girlfriend’s ringtone?”

  
“Hi darling.” Instead of responding, Rhys only answers his phone, rolling his eyes at the quiet laughter that erupts from Jack’s direction when he does.

  
“Hey, where are you?” Fiona asks from the other end, “You didn’t leave a note.”

  
“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t figure I would still be out when you got home. I went to hang out with Jack.”

  
“ _Oh_. Well, don’t let me interrupt the blow job you’re probably giving him right now.”

  
“I’m not giving him a blow job.” He responds in a rushed whisper.

  
“ _Ooh_ , Rhysie, you sure know how to use that pretty little mouth of yours!” Jack shouts with a bark of laughter. Rhys stutters for a second as he stares at him in surprise, before sticking his phone between his shoulder and ear, freeing up his hand to take off his shoe and throw it at him.

  
“He sounds like fun.” Fiona chuckles, “Which reminds me, when am I gonna meet this guy? I should at least _know_ the guy you’re dating.”

  
“Well, it sounds like he might come to movie night next week,” he looks over at Jack once he’s repositioned his phone, giving him a friendly smile.

  
“Sounds like a plan to me. Come home soon though, okay? It’s already midnight.”

  
“ _Holy_ \--really?”

  
“Yeah. Why? Lose track of time?”

  
“I left at eight.” he confirms.

  
“Holy _shit_ , babe, you've got it _bad_ ,” she laughs.

  
“ _Alright_ , I'm gonna hang up now,” Rhys says instead of addressing her comment, “I’ll be home soon.”

  
“See you in a bit.”

  
He approaches Jack once he hangs up the call, grabbing his shoe when it’s offered to him. He pulls it back on while he speaks.

  
“I have to get going, but I expect you to actually text me this week, okay? Even if you decide not to go to movie night, I just want confirmation that you’re, y’know, _alive_. Fair?”

  
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’ll text you.” Jack waves him off, dismissive again, but Rhys can see that he isn’t actually irritable. He offers his hand with a smile.

  
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, sir. Thank you for the promotion.”

  
“You’ve earned it, Rhysie.” he smiles as he stands, taking Rhys’ offered hand in his own for a firm handshake, “Don’t make me regret it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop alright things are finally starting to move along. I have the next three chapters planned out so there will be more of a direction. Sorry for the slow burn guys, but I promise it'll be worth it :3c


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack joins the group for movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay on this chapter. As I mentioned before, I have the next to chapters planned out but there might be a bit of a delay in getting them out on time as I'm sick and my productivity is down. Anyways, enjoy this one ;)

“Why did you have to invite _him_ , of all people?” Vaughn mumbles.

“Look,” Rhys starts, setting a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, “I know you don’t like him, but be nice, alright? I don’t think he has any friends.”

“Gee, Rhys, I wonder why that is. Maybe  because he’s an _obnoxious asshole_?”

“Vaughn,” he says sternly.

“ _Rhys_.” Vaughn shoots back mockingly as the taller man passes him to move into the kitchen.

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you. He _is_ an obnoxious asshole when he’s working, but I don’t think that’s who he really is.”

Vaughn sticks his tongue out in disgust.

“Are you hearing yourself right now?‘That’s not who he really is!’ You sound like some love-struck teenager.”

“Why does everyone think I have a thing for him?” Rhys pouts as he reaches for the container in the microwave.

“Bro, you’re not exactly being subtle. How long did it take you to warm up to August?”

“Six months.”

“Six months! You didn’t want him to come to movie night because you were worried he might poison the popcorn or something.”

“He’s intimidating, okay? Sue me!” Their discussion is only interrupted by the limited noise of six mugs being pulled from a cabinet and lined up on the counter by Rhys.

“You’ve known Jack for like, what, three weeks? A month, _maybe_? And suddenly you want him to come to movie night, despite him making it pretty damn clear for an entire week that he didn’t want to talk to you, _and_ my warnings that he’s a _goddamn psychopath_!”

“Pass me the hot chocolate mix.” he gestures to the box, “We just clicked, okay? I don’t think he’s that terrible of a guy, and I’d like to be his friend. Is it a crime to want to be friends with someone now?”

“Or,” Vaughn offers, grabbing the mix from a (thankfully low) shelf to pass it to his friend, “consider this alternative: you have a raging hard-on for my boss and don’t want to admit it because you’re in a relationship.”

“Oh my god, for the last time, I do not have a hard-on for Jack!” Rhys shoots a pointed look at Vaughn once he’s finished preparing the hot chocolate, before motioning to the crotch of his sweatpants, “See? I just made hot chocolate for him. Still limp.”

“Whatever, man.” the shorter man shakes his head but he reaches for the mugs, “You know I’m always going to be your friend, and if you think this will go well, then I’m behind you. Figuratively and literally. I’m going to stay behind you, so if he snaps, he gets you first--”

“Ha, ha,” Rhys rolls his eyes, picking up the remaining cups and moving into the living room to set them down on the coffee table beside the bowl of popcorn.

“--but if it backfires, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Rhys agrees, sitting down on the couch. His friend follows suit once he’s placed the mugs beside the others and takes a seat in the armchair to the left of the couch.

“Promise me you’ll at least be decent, though?”

“Christ, Rhys, I’m not gonna get in a fight with him. I don’t have a fucking death wish.” Vaughn reaches forward to grab a handful of popcorn as Fiona emerges from the bedroom.

“Have any of the others arrived yet?” she asks, just as the front door opens.

Sasha bounds through the doorway with a quick hello, a wide grin on her features and carrying two armfuls of candy as August shuts the door behind them.

“Geez, Sash,” Fiona’s eyebrows raise as her sister dumps her cargo beside the bowl of popcorn, “ that’s a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well,” she grabs one of the mugs of hot chocolate, “we’re meeting someone new today--”

“Sorta. We saw his fancy yellow corvette tear out of the parking lot last week, but I’m not sure if that really counts as meeting him.” August interrupts, but Sasha continues as she settles in on the loveseat opposite to Vaughn.

“--and I figured, ‘Hey! No better way to get someone to warm up than with candy!’ Except, y’know, maybe guns, but I think that might be kind of a weird first impression.”

“Not as weird as you might think,” Vaughn mutters, glancing at Rhys as he reaches for the popcorn again.

There’s a knock at the door before anyone can comment on that, but Rhys doesn’t miss a beat.

“Atlas!” he shouts, “Door!”

The doberman darts out of the bedroom and straight to the front door, standing up on his hind legs to open it. Jack stands in the doorway, sunglasses atop his head and staring in confusion at the dog who’s come to greet him instead of a person.

“Did your dog just answer the door for you?” He questions, narrowing his eyes as he shuts the door behind himself.

“Yeah,” Rhys responds from the couch, “he’s my service animal.”

There’s a brief moment of silence in which everyone else seems to hold their breath until Jack speaks.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

The tension is quickly defused when the rest of the group laughs at that, and Jack is ushered into the apartment. Atlas takes an immediate liking to the C.E.O. and when he takes a seat on the couch, the doberman is promptly laying across his lap. Much to Rhys’ delight, Jack doesn’t seem bothered by this--in fact, he seems at ease, scratching the dog behind his ears as the group descends into their usual discussion over possible movie choices.

“What about Grease?” Rhys suggests, but August makes a disgusted noise.

“You aren’t even _trying_ to suggest good movies anymore.”

“Grease is a great movie!” he pouts.

“Not as good as Scream.” Fiona challenges, and her sister nods.

“Or The Human Centipede.”

“Babe, I love freaky shit and I _still_ wouldn't watch The Human Centipede.” August says with a shake of his head.

“We are never going to watch a horror movie _ever again_.” Vaughn points an accusatory finger at Sasha and August. “ _You guys_ don't have to drive home alone. And if something comes at you, you can just shove each other in front of it and run. All I have are my cats.”

“Why can't you just throw one of your cats at it?” Fiona asks, although it earns her an offended glance from both Vaughn and Rhys.

“How dare you even _think_ that!” Vaughn manages to stutter through the shock.

“I don’t mean to interrupt this…” Jack starts, continuing to stroke Atlas’ fur, “uh, _important_ , conversation or anything, but don’t you all usually just end up watching Zombieland regardless? How’s about we save everyone the trouble and just. Put that on. My hot chocolate’s getting cold, people.”

Everyone simultaneously seems to look down to their own mugs, placing their hands against the ceramic to check the temperature, and Rhys can’t help but laugh a little at the sight.

“Zombieland it is.” Fiona confirms, giving Jack an amused smile. “Congrats. You just managed to shave twenty minutes off of the discussion.”

August reaches for the DVD case balanced precariously on top of the TV as Fiona talks, before joining Sasha on the loveseat.

“‘Discussion’?” Vaughn parrots, “That’s giving us a little too much credit, Fi.”

“Fair enough,” she chuckles as she squeezes onto the couch between Jack, Atlas and Rhys.

There’s some muffled shuffling as everyone rearranges themselves and their snacks a little more. The movie starts, and without hesitation, everyone but Jack speaks in unison.

“Oh, America.”

The C.E.O. can’t contain the laugh that escapes his lips.

\--

When the movie is over and everyone has gone home, Rhys and Fiona put away the dishes and mounds of candy left behind by their friends before they head to bed. The two of them lay in silence until Rhys reaches to turn off the bedside lamp.

“Hey, babe?” Fiona starts.

“Hm?” Rhys hums, pausing.

“Do you like Jack?”

“I mean,” he turns back around to face his girlfriend, brows furrowed and words careful, “I think he’s nice and all. I want to be his friend.”

“No, no. I mean like--do you think he’s attractive? Would you sleep with him?”

It take a moment for the question to process, and when it does--

\--Oh, God. This is a trap, isn’t it? This has to be a trap. He grabs his phone from the bedside table as he responds.

“I… I don’t know how to answer that.” Rhys stammers as he texts under the blanket.

[text to: Vaughn - Oh my god I think Fiona is going to break up with me???!??]  
  
“Just answer honestly.” she says.

[text from: Vaughn - Holy shit, bro. what happened?? what’s going on????]

“I don’t…”

“Rhys.” Fiona reaches over and gently puts her hand on his arm. “It’s okay. Just tell me.”

“I guess--yeah.” he rubs the back of his neck as he answers after a moment of quiet contemplation, “He’s attractive. His voice is sexy, maybe. I _guess_ I’d… I’d sleep with him if I wasn’t in a relationship?”

Rhys can only anxiously wait for the worst as she’s silent for a few moments while she considers his answer, but her response doesn’t match his expectations.

“What would you say if I told you that you could be in a relationship _and_ sleep with him?”

“Huh?”

“I think,” Fiona pinches the bridge of her nose in response to his very obvious confusion, “we should ask Jack to have sex with us.”

Processing…

Processing…

Processed.

“What?”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof okay sorry that this chapter was a week late orz. Its been a rough month and tbh I'm still not entirely over being sick but I digress. I'm trying to spread things out so my co-authors have more time to write chapter 11 so that's why not much happens this chapter lmao. But fear not. In a few weeks, I'm gonna have to change the rating on this fic ;)

For a moment, it’s honestly all Rhys can do to keep his head from exploding in shock. Had he actually heard that right?

“Can you--can you repeat that? Sorry, I must be...high, or drunk, or _something_. Did someone drug my hot chocolate?”

Fiona sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose. It takes a moment before she collects her thoughts enough to respond.

“I said,” she starts, “that I think we should ask Jack to sleep with us. If you're okay with that.”

“That's just.” Rhys runs his hand through his hair. “Really sudden, I guess? Geez, Fi.”

“Yeah, I know,” she agrees, “We don't have to if you don't feel comfortable with it, of course. It’s pretty clear that you think he’s hot, and I do too, and I'm just now realizing that maybe I shouldn't have asked you about this when we’ve barely even been together for a year.”

She shakes her head and starts to stand from her position on the bed, but Rhys grabs her wrist.

“Hey, it's alright,” he murmurs gently with a small smile, “Let’s talk about this, okay?”

Fiona nods and settles back down as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I'll admit, I'm not… against the idea. I just don't know how we’d even go about it. I mean, we can't just invite him to lunch and ask him to sleep with us. ‘Man, this sandwich is great! Also, I want to suck your dick.’ probably wouldn't go over that well, y’know?”

“I mean, couldn't we?” she laughs, “Jack seems like a straightforward guy. Maybe not that exact wording, but I think we should just ask him.”

Rhys considers this for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you're right. I think he’d just get irritated if we beat around the bush.”

His phone vibrates as soon as he finishes speaking, and silently he curses himself for leaving Vaughn hanging.

[text from: Vaughn - DUDE holy shit what the fuck is happening??]

[text to: Vaughn - Sorry, sorry. False alarm. Everything’s fine. It’s cool.]

[text from: Vaughn - What happened???]

[text to: Vaughn - Nothing.]

[text from: Vaughn - If you won't tell me, I'll just ask Fiona]

Rhys starts to type a response when he hears his girlfriend’s phone ding.

“Don't answer that text,” he warns.

“What text?” She says innocently as she picks up her phone and begins typing.

“Fiona--”

[text from: Vaughn - YOURE GONNA SLEEP WITH MY BOSS?!?!??!!]

“Fiona!”  
  
“What? It wasn't me,” she grins, tossing her phone to the foot of the bed where Atlas is sprawled, “it was Atlas! Bad dog.”

The Doberman tilts his head to the side at her scolding, while Rhys just sighs and turns back to his phone.

[text to: Vaughn - Okay, yes. But in my defense it was Fiona’s idea.]

[text from: Vaughn - Oh my god. I can't fucking believe this is happening to me.]  
[text from: Vaughn - Betrayed by my best friend. What the fuck man. I'm pretty sure it says somewhere in the bro code that you're not supposed to sleep with your best friend’s boss]

[text to: Vaughn - Alright, first of all, the “bro code” doesn't exist and you need to stop watching so much himym]  
[text to: Vaughn - Second, we don't even know how he'll respond when we ask him.]

[text from: Vaughn - I do. Does Jack really seem like the kind of person to turn down the offer of a threesome?]

[text to: Vaughn - Not really, no]

[text from: Vaughn - Exactly]  
[text from: Vaughn - Idk man. You're pushing the lengths of what I am okay with]

[text to: Vaughn - You’re my best friend, Vaughn. If it really bothers you that much, then I won't do it. You're more important to me than getting laid.]

[text from: Vaughn - Nah, it’s alright, I guess. I can't promise that I'll be comfortable with it, but I'm not going to police your life, you know?]  
[text from: Vaughn - You know I'm not interested in anyone, but I won't deny that he is attractive.]

[text to: Vaughn - Thanks bro. I'll try not to talk about how awesome it was with you ;)]

[text from: Vaughn - Okay, gross. I'm going to bed, good night.]

[text to: Vaughn - Lmao night]

Rhys sets his phone down and turns back to Fiona, scratching his jaw in thought. “So… I guess we’re really doing this?”

“Vaughn’s cool with it?” She motions to the phone in his lap.

“About as okay as he can be.”

“Then, yeah. I guess we are. The worst thing he can do is say ‘no’.”

“And never want to talk to us again. Or issue a restraining order. Or--”

“Babe,” Fiona interrupts his paranoid rambling with a hand on his shoulder, “It’ll be fine.”

Rhys locks eyes with her for a second and gives her a smile, albeit a forced one. “Yeah. Yeah. It'll be fine. Thanks.”

“Of course.” She motions again to Rhys’ phone. “You wanna ask him to meet us for lunch tomorrow?”

“Right. Yeah. Is Creekside okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

He nods as he picks up his phone again, staring at the screen apprehensively for a moment before he pulls up his conversation with Jack.

[text to: Jack - Hey, are you busy tomorrow?]

[text from: Jack - nah, why?]

[text to: Jack - Wanna meet me and Fiona for lunch tomorrow at Creekside Cafe?]

[text from: Jack - i'll meet u for lunch but not @creekside]  
[text from: Jack - How about the girl & the fig instead?]

[text to: Jack - That's a little out of our price range right now, man.]

  
[text from: Jack - U think I'm gonna make u pay??]  
[text from: Jack - I mean I'm an asshole but I'm not gonna force u to go to a fancy restaurant and then make u pay for urself]

[text to: Jack - Wow.]  
[text to: Jack - Uh]  
[text to: Jack - Thanks? Are you sure?]

[text from: Jack - Yeah don't worry about it I can swing it. Could swing it for the whole group tbh]

[text to: Jack - No, no, that's okay. I appreciate the offer but just the three of us.]

[text from: Jack -k. I'm headed to bed but see u tmrw @12?]

“Noon alright with you?” He looks up from his phone to get confirmation from his girlfriend, who’s since collected her own phone and settled back into the bed.

“That's fine, yeah.”

[text to: Jack - Yeah, 12 works. Night.]

[text from: Jack - night]

Rhys plugs his phone in and places it on the nightstand before he turns the lamp off. He settles down into bed with a content sigh as he drags Fiona closer by her waist and places a kiss on her cheek, leaving his arm wrapped around her as they fall into a comfortable silence.

What the hell has he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Rhys is gonna have a heart attack before the end of the week. rip rhys.
> 
> Also Vaughn is just. He's beauty, he's grace, he's Super Hella Ace.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Fiona have a very important question for Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I apologize for this chapter being a day late. My proofreader was asleep all of yesterday so he didn't get the chance to look it over before I went to bed. But it's here now!

“What about this?” Rhys stands in front of the mirror in the bedroom he shares with Fiona, turning this way and that as he examines his outfit. “Too stiff?”

“Babe,” Fiona groans, sprawled on the bed in her outfit for the day, “I really don’t think he’s going to pay any attention to your clothes.”

“Just humor me, alright? He regularly wears blazers worth more than my car.”

“To be fair, your car is kind of a piece of crap,” she points out, sitting up on her elbows to make eye contact in the mirror.

“Fiona,” Rhys whines.

“Alright, alright.” She hoists herself up and quickly closes the distance between her and her boyfriend, examining him from every angle she can. “You’re fine, mostly.”

“Mostly?” he echoes.

“Lose the shoes.” She points to his feet. Rhys gives her an offended look.

“These are the most expensive things I own!”

“You asked for my opinion,” she says with a grin, “and my opinion is that you should take those shoes off, take them outside, and throw them in the trash. Nobody wears snakeskin anymore.”

He looks down at his feet in dismay before taking his shoes off. “So what should I wear, then?’

“You’ve got a nice pair of Oxfords buried in the closet somewhere. Wear those.”

“Ugh, really? They look weird, though.”

Fiona only shakes her head in response. “You have an incredibly warped sense of what looks weird and what looks hot as all hell.”

“Alright, alright. Find me the damn shoes, then,” he huffs, sitting down on the bed in defeat. He tries to cross his arms before he seems to remember that he only has one.

Fiona gives him a sympathetic glance before moving over to their shared closet, digging around for a moment before she emerges with a pair of black dress shoes in hand. She helps him pull them on and ties them for him before she checks her phone for the time.

“It’s time to go.” She offers her hand and Rhys takes it, pulling himself to his feet. “You ready?”

He smoothes down his shirt, takes a deep breath, and gives Fiona a smile. “About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

\--

Rhys isn’t entirely sure what he had expected lunch with Jack to be like, but whatever he had expected… It wasn’t this.

The C.E.O. had ordered what seemed like half the menu, and the staff had had to drag over an extra table just for all of the plates dedicated solely to Jack. He’d encouraged Rhys and Fiona to order whatever they’d wanted, since it probably wouldn’t make a dent in the bill compared to what he had bought for himself.

They both had opted for sandwiches, though Rhys ordered a sprite and Fiona a milkshake. Jack had promptly proceeded to order both of them a dessert, disbelieving that so little could possibly satisfy them.

“So,” Jack says through a mouthful of cheeseburger, “there somethin’ you wanted, or didja just want me to pay for your lunch?”

“You offered,” Rhys points out.

“Yeah, but I’m not oblivious. This is about more than just wanting a sandwich on someone else’s dime. Go on, out with it.”

The couple share a glance before Rhys takes a deep breath and turns back to Jack.

“The thing is, we… Well, Fiona, that is, uh… I just thought that, y’know…”

“What he’s trying to say,” Fiona takes over for him, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved in his life, “is that we want you to sleep with us.”

Jack chokes on whatever artery-clogging food he’s shoved in his mouth and it takes him a moment to compose himself. When he does, he looks like he’s just heard the funniest damn thing in his entire life.

“Wait, holy shit, really?!” He practically shouts, and Rhys shushes him.

“Yes, really, but could you try not to announce it to the entire world? This is already embarrassing enough as it is.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jack says, although he’s still laughing, “This for real? You’re both okay with this?” Rhys and Fiona nod, and Jack considers the offer for no more than five seconds.

“Ah, fuck it, why not? Haven’t got much to lose, anyway. You two aren’t worried this’ll make things, y’know, awkward?”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” Fiona counters.

“Fair enough,” Jack agrees, “So, did you like, have a plan once we reached this point? We setting a date or somethin’?”

“Just… Whenever, I guess?” Rhys suggests, “You’re a busy guy, so it’s probably best to plan around your schedule first rather than ours.”

“Sure, but I am my own boss. I make my own hours, and I’m free after this,” he replies with a grin and raised eyebrows.

Rhys can only stare at him in response at first. Jack seems to get a kick out of that.

“You--I mean, I just--really?”

“You oughta see the look on your face, cupcake,” Jack wheezes.

“I just. Really, are you serious?” Rhys finally manages.

Jack shrugs. “Sure, why not? Don’t have anything better to do. Well, I mean there are a few things that demand my attention, but they can wait.”

_Holy shit_ , is all Rhys can think.

“Holy shit,” Fiona says. No wonder they’re such a good match.

“So, we doin’ this, or no?”

Rhys glances at his girlfriend in search of an answer to Jack’s question. “Is that… Okay with you?”

Fiona nods. “You?”

He takes a moment to think about it, but eventually nods as well. “Yeah.”

Jack waves the waitress over with a grin. “Can we get some boxes?” He gives Rhys and Fiona a pointed glance. “We’ve got some very important business to attend to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure y'all know what's gonna happen in the next chapter lol. That chapter will not be written by me, however, because I'm horrible at smut! So my co authors are gonna work on that one together \o/ it may be a little bit late, but after that we should get back on a regular schedule again!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, come find me on tumblr! I am corgiss!


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